


Carve Me On Your Soul (And Never Let You Go)

by timwsgl



Series: Unbroken!verse [2]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Angst, Biting, Chapter 7 is where things get SERIOUS, Consensual Kink, Consensual Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Knifeplay, M/M, Minor Character(s), Minor character torture, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Asami Ryuichi, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-05 10:07:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6700618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timwsgl/pseuds/timwsgl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'll pull you down with me and it's a long way to fall...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It is already afternoon by the time Akihito rises. He looks around blearily. He’s in Asami’s apartment. After what happened in Asami’s office, Akihito vaguely remembers Asami carrying him into his limo. And his – _their_ – house... What happens after, he cannot really remember.  
  
_Brand me on your heart_...  
  
Akihito shakes his head and tries to clear the fog away, willing the blush in his cheeks to subside.  
  
_Wear me on your body_...  
  
His mind might not be able to retain the memories, but his body sure does. It aches and twinges with pain. His body has finger-shaped bruises. There are faint crescent marks on his skin. And if he looks closer, which he doesn't, he will see that the skin has broken in some places.  
  
_Remember me on your skin_...  
  
It's all too much for him to proess. He's glad that he has an answer for his question. But is the the answer he expects?  
  
_Taste me on your lips_...  
  
Akihito's suddenly grateful that Asami is not here. Probably attending to his other businesses, or whatever he does in the light of day... He doesn't know how he will react in his confusion... Or how Asami will respond. He doesn't think that Asami has ever been this vulnerable in years, this he _does_ know.  
  
He sighs and runs his fingers through his tangled hair. He is nver going to stop thinking about what happened if he does not get up from the bed.. And he has an afternoon shoot. The shoot will help to keep him from over-thinking (he hopes). Of course, he will prefer if he can empty his mind for a blissful amount of time. Before the memories come back. And they will, he knows that. Asami's made sure of it... He's just too _overwhelmed_ now...  
  
Akihito drags himself to the bathroom. Muscles ache in places he didn't know pain could exist. His skin feels overstretched and tingly in places. His lips feel swollen and as he licks his lips, he tastes a tang of copper. And his... hole... Akihito gingerly presses his fingers inside, blushing all the while. He brings his fingers around and he's glad to see there's no blood. This time... Though this thought brings little consolation because he doesn't think he can sit down for the next few hours. Or days...  
  
Akihito takes a very quick shower and dries himself quickly. He does all this without looking into the mirror. He cannot bring himself to look into it. If he feels the way he does now, he is probably going to look just as bad. He ~~limps~~  walks to the wardrobe and pulls on a pair of ragged jeans... slowly. He winces his way through and later pulls on a T-shirt. He hesitates for a while, then buttons a long-sleeved collar shirt over what he's wearing. He really, really hopes that it's enough to cover up what he's been doing last night.  
  
He grabs his bag before he gains enough resolve to look at his reflection.  
  
And it's time to leave for his shoot.


	2. Chapter 2

Akihito reaches the location for the shoot. It’s a modelling assignment he promised to do for a friend. Only, it's a favour to Akihito. His time in Hong Kong really hasn’t done much for his previously fledging career, now practically non-existent.

As he rummages through his camera bag, he is unaware of the looks sent his way. Looks that carry both fascination and... lust. This has actually been happening to him the whole time he was rushing to the shoot. But Akihito’s sixth sense is only honed to danger – _and Asami..._ – and his naiveté prevents him from seeing such looks.

This is a perfume shoot he is doing. Set in a bedroom. Apparently, this perfume is meant to entice men to bed. Personally, Akihito thinks the perfume stinks, literally. He is determinedly concentrating on how to bring out the essence of a perfume that he thinks really smells like a dead dog in a bath of cloying rosewater. Rather than how he thinks Asami can just lie on the bed and look into his viewfinder with his slight smirk and most women – and some men – will just come rushing forward to sniff him. Himself most definitely NOT included.

_Even if his unique smell of spice, cologne and ... Asami... is overpowered by the stench of blood and gunpowder..._

This stray (not-)thought is enough to jolt Akihito back to his senses. He shakes his head and forces his mind back on his job. He cannot afford to blow this shoot. As he focuses through his viewfinder, his lenses zoom onto the female model lying provocatively on the bed.

Akihito blinks. _Jesus,_ he thinks, _I've not even given any instructions for the shoot to begin, and she’s already looking like this..._

Akihito begins to feel thankful that he’s working with an apparently professional model. One who is able to throw herself into the shoot without much encouragement on his part. This train of thought is derailed when she arches an eyebrow and _smoulders_  at him. Curving her lean body sinuously and spreading her toned legs in an obscene gesture...

_Pushing his legs apart, as wide as he can go. Feeling vulnerable, exposed ... But a thrill of shamed excitement shooting through him as Asami looks between his legs with his eyes burning. He tries to pull his legs closed, but Asami grabs his thighs and stop his weak efforts. Staring all the while at the mess between his legs. The come leaking out from behind his balls, and smearing over his thighs and the bedcovers beneath him..._

_“Please, please... don’t...”_

_Akihito does not know what he is begging for. For Asami to stop_ looking _at him like that, or for him to continue with what he was doing... His hands move to shove Asami’s hands away but Asami grabs both instead, using his knees to hold Akihito’s thighs apart. He drags Akihito’s hands down..._

Akihito flushes deep red and immediately tugs down the tails of his collared shirt to cover his sudden erection with one hand. He quickly focuses on the model again and his camera captures her looking at him lustfully. Her body spread out in a come-hither gesture as she mistakes his erection as lust for her. However, Akihito is too caught up in his flashback to notice her increased interest in him.

Akihito is beginning to have a bad feeling about this shoot.


	3. Chapter 3

The end of the shoot cannot have come sooner.

Akihito is practically dizzy with all the blood being centred on a certain part of his anatomy, made all the more uncomfortable when wearing tight jeans. The model is flushed and looks as if she just had sex, limbs splayed out on the bed. After her unceasing undulations throughout the entire shoot, it is probably not surprising if she did actually orgasm...

With herself and Akihito in mind as she practically masturbates in front of the camera.

But this is the last thing on Akihito’s mind. Akihito blindly thanks the model and nearly sprints to the bathroom before he receives any reply from her. Once there, he shuts the door and leans back against the doorframe on shaky legs. He presses the heel of his palm against his closed eyes as he tries to shut his mind off. He has been plagued by thoughts... _Memories_... Of what happened last night. He remembers soundless snatches of words, breathed against his skin as Asami’s lips brush over his body. Akihito shudders. Even now, he can feel the silent promises made physical by Asami...

Pushing off unsteadily from the door, he manoeuvres his way to the sink jerkily. There, Akihito sees his reflection for the first time.

_Always remember me..._

What stares back at him is someone who he doesn’t recognise. Not really... He stumbles away from the mirror, eyes averted from his reflection. He processes what he sees in snapshots...

Hair; rumpled and sex-tousled – _Running his fingers through it all night, at times using it as a headhold..._ Lips; pouty and cracked in places – _Akihito can only breathe through his mouth and that is covered by Asami's lips, stealing breath. The harder they breathe, the deeper the kiss..._ Neck; bruised and reddened – _biting and sucking, stealing Akihito’s taste from his skin..._

Akihito needs to escape from the bathroom. Escape from the visible remnants of Asami’s possession... From the premonition that he will become something different, changed by belonging to Asami totally...

Because the knowledge is in his eyes. Heavy-lidded and gleaming a darker golden-rich brown than normal...

_I’ll sink so completely into you that you can never look into your eyes without seeing me reflected back...  Drive myself so deep that you can never breathe without tasting me on your lips... Burrow so far that you will never allow any other man to hold you; possess you, like you did me..._

_But it will never be enough..._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a small interlude. Not as serious as the rest of the story=) Enjoy!

A shaken Akihito steps out of the bathroom. After what he’s seen in the mirror, he feels unbearably self-conscious. He’s uncomfortably aware of the subtle and some not-so-subtle glances people keep throwing him out of the corner of their eyes. He can’t help wondering if he just happened to miss it before.  
  
Akihito continues walking towards where his camera equipment is stored; and if he’s walking a little bow-legged, hunched over, and slower than normal, he chooses to ignore it. However, he cannot help but notice that people’s heads swivel along with his walk. He hesitates when he nears his stuff, and there are a group of people waiting there, the model included. He does not know what they want, but after seeing what he looks like, he can probably hazard a guess...  
  
There’s no way around it. Akihito reaches his stuff and starts to pack quickly. He’s studiously ignoring the people around him. The model presses forward and lays a hand on his arm. Forced to look up, Akihito tries to maintain an impassive expression.  
  
The model looks at him flirtatiously through her lashes and moistens her own lips. Akihito thinks that she’s giving him funny looks and wordlessly telling him that he needs lip moisturizer. Her fingers come up to press gently against her own collarbone and rub in slow circles, seemingly entranced. He fidgets uncomfortably, wondering if it’s a hint that he needs to buy a turtleneck.  
  
Coyly, she askes him, “Hey, Akihito-kun... I can call you that right?” Without waiting for a reply, she continues on. “Since this shoot is such a success, because we work _sooo_ well together, I was wondering... Do you want to come over to my place later, so we can exchange pointers... Privately?”  
  
She sends a dirty look to the rest of the people crowding them, and they shift around, glaring back at her. She sniffs and throws her hair back. _She_ saw him first. And he’s _obviously_ attracted to _her_...  
  
Akihito is blind to this. He’s in a panic. He’s aware that he seems different after his ‘trip’ to Hong Kong. But he doesn’t think it warrants an _interrogation_ about his sex life, especially from someone he does not know. Because that’s what girls like her only ever do with him, they just want to talk. That’s all. He’s apparently suited to be a girl’s best friend, just not her boyfriend.  
  
“Yo-you mean, just the t-two of us? No one else?” Akihito stutters out. He is damned well not going to talk to anyone about this, let alone with an audience in tow.  
  
Surprise flits across her face and one eyebrow arches slightly. Her lips curve up slightly in a smirk as she drawls her reply, “We-ell, it’s up to you... But I had no idea you were so... Open-minded...”  
  
The rest of the group are looking excited, now that they _think_ that they have a chance to _participate..._ They are all thinking, her included, _who knew such an innocent face hid such thoughts? A threesome, indeed..._ Each stares invitingly at Akihito, willing him to choose them.  
  
Akihito blinks, finding himself the focus of so many stares is quite disconcerting, to say the least. Hesitantly, “Sorry, I’m... really busy at the moment and I’m all tied up...” Their eyes glaze over, _mmm, tied up as well... Kinky._ “... with projects, so I don’t think I can come over tonight...” _Or ever_. Even though the photographs for today’s shoot aren’t due for a few weeks, Akihito would much rather develop photographs in his darkroom than hang out with unfamiliar people.  
  
He backs away from all of them, mumbling his apologies. Deftly evading the hands that come up to impede his escape, he avoids eyes contact with any of them. He weaves his way through the crowd to the exit. He needs to get away from these people. He needs to be alone.  
  
_He needs more time to be just himself, before he gets completely taken over..._


	5. Chapter 5

Akihito leaves the shoot location, along with his ‘adoring’ crowd. He’s a little exhausted, what with the overwhelming attention he’s not used to receiving. And he has just acknowledged ( _in a bathroom, for fuck’s sake)_ that what is between him and Asami may be slightly more than what he can handle.  
  
Akihito brings up his right hand to rub his forehead tiredly. His eyes are drawn to the bruises forming a bracelet with finger-shaped prints adorning his wrist. They lie vivid on his pale skin. Akihito brings his hand down and stares at the inside of his wrist. He turns it over and he sees the faint scar left over from Feilong’s tattoo. However, even that is covered by the bruises left by Asami’s fingers. And... Akihito brings his wrist closer to his eyes and squints slightly. He immediately flushes. Right there on his wrist, is a faint but unmistakable bite mark. One complete with teeth...  
  
Despite the tattoo that Feilong gives him, that only serves to show that he is property. It means nothing compared to those that Asami gives him. Feilong’s brand means he belongs to the syndicate; and if he wants, he can give Akihito to anyone he wants, even those outside the syndicate. Asami’s marks are his and his alone, no one else can leave marks like that on Akihito. They can even be used for identification purposes should something happen to Akihito, to find out who they belong to ( _to whom he belongs to_ ).  
  
Akihito rubs his wrist with his left hand and stares blindly at the bruises already darkening on his wrist. He stands in the middle of the busy street. And he is just beginning to notice the looks that people are sending his way.  
  
_He wears his wounded innocence like a banner, his marks like armour._  
  
He looks blankly back at them. He realises that they are sending him the same looks that he’s been receiving back at the studio. A fair amount of lust, interest but more than that, the... half-entranced fascination? Akihito wonders at the strange expressions adorning their faces.  
  
He doesn’t realise what a picture he is presenting to everyone around him. They see a lithe, lightly muscular fey creature with silvery-bronze hair and a pale elfin face. One they would like to claim for themselves. Kiss-bruised pouty lips grace a pale, smooth face, a contrast to the wide gilt-edged brown eyes which seem to radiate life and innocence. His slender neck and hands seem strangely delicate, especially when carrying his bulky camera equipment. The seeming frailty of his hands is emphasized by the finger-shaped bruises, kiss marks and bites lying so starkly on his creamy skin. The marks on his neck run from the edge of his jaw to below the collar of his overshirt. Even his collarbone, slightly showing above the t-shirt, has not been spared. However, the rough kisses sucked so harshly onto his skin only serve to emphasize the elegance of his collarbone. Dark discolorations on his wrists form a chain that run beneath the sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt.  
  
They stare at the marks adorning his body. They wonder how someone can delve so deeply into another person it leaves a tangible reminder for everyone to see. A visible proclamation ofpossession...  
  
_He looks like an ethereal being, fettered and chained..._  
  
Akihito breaks off eye contact with these people, feeling strangely invaded. He hates the way he is being looked at, like he’s some kind of unusual creature that has just appeared in their midst ( _he does not know how true that is_ ). He wants to go back to how he was i.e. life before Asami. But, no matter what he thinks, he knows that he can’t quite give Asami up. Asami has woven himself so deeply into Akihito’s life that he has become an integral part of it. After Hong Kong, he is probably the cause and reason that Akihito is still alive right now. And Akihito can’t bring himself to resent this, no matter how much he tells himself.  
  
However, this is not to say that he is willing to allow Asami to take over his life. In fact, Akihito thinks, it’s time to tell Asami this fact.  
  
And he heads to Club Sion where Asami is most likely to be found.


	6. Chapter 6

Akihito arrives at the entrance of Club Sion. This early in the day, the club is closed. But, when he knocks, the person cleaning the bar apparently recognises him and opens the door for him. Without even asking, the man motions to Akihito that Asami is in his office.  
  
Akihito heads to Asami’s office. A stray thought hits him and he wonders when it was that even Asami’s employees at the club and not just the bodyguards that Asami has surrounding him ( _and trailing Akihito_ ), see it as natural for him to ‘hang around’ Asami.  
  
He can’t help feeling a little apprehensive. After all, the last time he has here, he spilled his feelings of inadequacy and doubts about his self-worth ( _self-worthlessness_ ). But he cannot say he regrets it. After all, it did gain him an honest Asami. One, who ( _somewhat_ ) bared his own feelings ( _a little_ ), to assuage Akihito’s disquiet and self-loathing. But he can’t help worrying that there might be a price to pay for seeing Asami vulnerable that way.  
  
But it’s too late to regret it now. Akihito has already reached the threshold of Asami’ sanctum and Asami’s secretary is indicating that Akihito is to go in. _Huh,_ Akihito thinks, _they’re really efficient. I just arrived and Asami already knows that I’m here._  
  
As Akihito enters the room, the door closes with an ominous thud behind him. However, Asami’s attention is not diverted from the stack of paperwork in front of him. He does not even bring up his head to acknowledge Akihito’s presence.  
  
 _Hmph,_ Akihito mutters to himself, _bastard is trying to make me uncomfortable._ Only thing is, he’s succeeding. Akihito, already nervous at coming to see Asami, is made even more jittery by Asami’s seeming disregard of him. He fidgets a little, before moving over to the leather couch in the corner. Akihito makes to sit down, before suddenly remembering with a shocking clarity what they did in this same couch last night. He immediately jerks up ramrod-straight, face a deep red, unable to touch or even look at the inanimate object that contains so many memories.  
  
 _Shit, I can’t even sit down._ Akihito groans to himself. Wondering if he made a huge mistake in coming here. But he refuses to back down now, and look even more like a dickless coward to Asami. He moves over to one of the prints hanging on the walls of Asami’s office. Intending to use it as a diversion tactic, he unwillingly gets sucked into the swirling paints on the painting.  
  
Which explains why he is unaware when Asami leaves his desk and comes to stand behind him. He jumps when Asami’s hand comes around him and grabs his chin. Pulling his face up and back, the move exposes Akihito’s ( _bruised, bitten, marked_ ) neck. His lips brush over Akihito’s in a surprisingly soft touch. Akihito’s chest tightens. He doesn’t know what Asami wants. He’s playing a game for which he does not know the rules to, or even if they are any.  
  
Akihito opens his mouth to protest and _there,_ Asami’s mouth presses deeply over his. Akihito’s lips fit against the known contours of Asami’s. And just like that, it’s like being back in the beginning all over again. This is not something new, but it will never get old. An intimacy relearned again and again, in so many ways.  
  
The kiss deepens. Asami relentlessly pushes his way slowly into Akihito’s mouth, and it’s like he’s memorising Akihito’s taste. There is no place his tongue leaves untouched, and Akihito _shudders…_ Asami’s tongue delves deeply, twining itself along Akihito’s and Akihito cannot help but respond. He pants softly and gives a soft whine in faint protest… This is too much, too intimate. It feels like Asami is carving himself a place _inside_ Akihito’s soul, an Asami-shaped hole that only he can fill. And the worst thing is, Akihito cannot help feeling that this is only the beginning… There is so much that Asami can take from him…  
  
Before Akihito can begin to struggle and push away from Asami, Asami releases his chin and moves away completely. Akihito sways on his feet, feeling off-balance and weak. He opens his eyes, which he doesn’t remember closing. Looking blearily into Asami’s golden-eyed visage, he can’t help wishing he kept his eyes closed. Asami’s serious, closed-off countenance doesn’t exactly tell him what Asami is thinking. He turns fully towards Asami, using the wall behind him as his support.  
  
Asami’s deep voice breaks through the unnatural quiet that has settled over the two of them. “I’m surprised that you would actually seek me out today, so soon after what happened last night, Akihito... Is there something you want to tell me?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where things get Really Serious...  
> DON'T READ IF MY WARNINGS SQUICK YOU!

Akihito shakes his head at Asami. He has so many questions that he wants to ask Asami, and they’re all making a clamour in his head, trying to get out.  
  
Unable to control himself, he bursts out, “That’s the thing. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know what you want from me!” Akihito looks at Asami, defiance and bewilderment mixing in equal portions in his eyes. He needs to know what Asami expects from him, so he can prepare ( _protect_ ) himself adequately.  Akihito pushes Asami away from him roughly and moves to stand in the middle of the room. Silently, Asami walks back to his desk and sits back in his chair. He looks gravely at Akihito, who is trying to sort out his thoughts.  
  
Akihito bites out his next words. Almost accusingly, he says, “I don’t even recognise myself anymore.  I can tell that I’m different now, and so can everybody else!” These words end in a near shout, Akihito is so agitated. He brings up a hand and runs it through his already messy hair.  
  
Asami sits there in silence, for a while. Then standing, he stalks over to Akihito, and without stopping, grabs his arm. He continues his long strides and Akihito is forced to walk quickly behind him, or be dragged along. He doesn’t struggle though, because he thinks he might be getting his answer soon.  
  
Pushing open the doors of his office, Asami stalks past his startled secretary with the clipped command to bring the car around. Pulling Akihito firmly behind him, he brushes past wide-eyed employees as he moves quickly through the club. At the entrance, the car has just pulled up. Asami tosses Akihito unceremoniously into the backseat of the car and climbs in after him..  
  
The car starts and it’s filled with an uncomfortable, heavy silence. Akihito fidgets in his seat, but he is unwilling to bring any further attention to himself. The ball is in Asami’s court. Asami however, just stares out the window, arms folded across his chest, a forbidding presence beside Akihito. Akihito peeks at him out of the corner of his eyes, and Asami looks to be deep in thought.  
  
Finally, they reach their destination. Akihito realises without any surprise that they are back at Asami’s penthouse. Asami gets out of the car and Akihito scrambles out after him. In absolute silence again, they walk into the building and take the elevator to Asami’s apartment. Once there, Asami moves over to the armchair by the side of the couch and seats himself down, facing Akihito. Akihito is, once again, left floundering. His eyes flitter around him. His eyes take in the X-box controller and games lying messily on the living room table and floors, where he left them. There is also a fruit bowl, filled with fruits, lying in the middle of the table, along with a fruit knife.  
  
“And?” Asami asks finally. “What will you do about it?” His words are in no way helpful to Akihito’s state of mind. Akihito can go about his life perfectly fine, thank you very much, without Asami’s condescending tone. Or words to that effect... Besides, Akihito did not come all this way only to have Asami ask him the questions he’s been asking himself.  
  
“I’ll go somewhere. F-far away... I’ll ask my editor to gi-give... me assignments that will take me a-away from here.” Akihito whispers in stutters, but still clear and coherent enough to be heard by Asami across the room. Chest heaving, he continues, “I need to be alone. I can’t... Can’t _breathe_ around here...” He looks pleadingly at Asami, willing him to understand. Willing him to fix this, whatever this is, between them. To see that he is only lashing out at Asami because he doesn’t know, can’t control, what is happening between them.  
  
There is obviously something between them. And Akihito wants a name for what he truly means to Asami. He needs to. He can’t live in this limbo anymore. Almost a lover, yet not. Important enough to chase after, but apparently not important enough to tell him where he really stands in Asam’s heart.  
  
”That was not enough?” Asami gestures towards Akihito’s body, his words biting. “Don’t you realise that no matter how far you run, I’ll always be there to catch you... What more do I have to do, before you finally realise that you belong to me?” These words are spoken more softly, with an air of menace.  
  
Akihito looks away from Asami. He doesn’t _know_. That’s why he came here. Looking for answers. His eyes fall onto the fruit knife lying innocently(?) on Asami’s desk, and his mind flashes to _Asami bent over his body, one hand gripping his neck tightly, the other trailing lightly over his body. Murmuring the words like a vow, “You are mine. I am the only one...”_  
  
Akihito swallows, but he is suddenly so hard that he _hurts_. It is a conditioned response from _that time._ He can only blame the blood rush from his head down to his cock when he hears himself saying, as if from a great distance away, ”I guess you’ll just have to give me a permanent reminder... One that I will never forget, that will never go away...”  
  
Asami’s eyes flash a brilliant amber at Akihito’s reply. As they follow the path of Akihito’s path to where they are staring at the knife in front of him, his eyes narrow and his elegant nostrils flare. Akihito jerks his gaze away from the object and it’s caught by Asami’s, who is now staring at him with smouldering eyes.  
  
_Do you remember what I said? Do you remember the promise?_  
  
Akihito cannot believe what he has said. What he implied. But he doesn’t, _won’t_ take back the words. This is insane, pure madness. But this has always been what is between them. The slight hint of insanity that seethes in their blood during their couplings. And they’re only just now acknowledging it.  
  
And maybe, Akihito thinks, this is what he needs to ground himself. To know that he is irreplaceable to Asami. That no one else can ever have what Asami is giving him, or taking from him... or whatever it is they’re about to do... That this act will create an unbreakable bond between the two of them, more than anything ever has before. Cement his place in Asami’s heart...  
  
Holding Asami’s gaze, Akihito shrugs off the shirt and pulls off the T-shirt underneath, revealing a body already claimed by Asami. _But these marks are not forever._ His fingers go to the fastening of his pants, and he undoes them, progress only hindered slightly by his unsteady fingers. He pulls down his boxers as well and stands naked in front of a fully clothed Asami, the slight tremor of his body no longer hidden. But his mind is made up. He won’t turn back. They have gone through too much for him to back away now.  
  
Asami only watches Akihito through narrowed eyes. His face is a frozen, expressionless mask. But what Akihito sees in his eyes strengthens his resolve. Asami’s eyes are _burning_. Alight with a passion that Akihito has never seen before. Akihito feverishly wonders if Asami has always had such a coiled, pent-up tension within him, and why he has never seen it...  
  
Asami stands up gracefully from his seat and turns to the full length glass windows behind him, using the controls to draw the shades of the windows. The only illumination now is from the lights within the room, which Asami dims; just enough to see without having to squint. Once this is done, he turns back around to face Akihito and starts stripping slowly. As more of his ( _beautiful_ ) body is revealed, Akihito’s breath comes faster until he is nearly panting. When Asami is fully bared, he moves to the table and picks up the knife. He runs his fingers across the edge, as if he’s testing its sharpness. And it’s sharp enough, even Akihito can see that. It’s clean as well, sterilised after each use. After Asami is done, he rounds the table to stand before Akihito, bringing the knife with him.  
  
With his free hand on Akihito’s chest, Asami gently pushes Akihito down onto the pile of clothes lying in casual disarray around them. Akihito wishes that the floor is carpeted; at least  _one_ part of him would have been comfortable. But he doesn’t protest.  
  
Throughout all these, Asami doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t ask if Akihito is sure.  
  
Asami kneels between Akihito’s splayed legs, his eyes running over Akihito’s body. His eyes land on a spot near Akihito’s hip, and Akihito swallows with a mouth that’s suddenly too dry. Asami’s eyes come up with a suddenness that surprises Akihito, giving him one last chance to back out. Akihito holds his gaze and his hand moves to clasp Asami’s hand, the one clutching the knife. It’s his final answer and Akihito intends to stand by it.  
  
When Asami finally opens his mouth, Akihito gives an internal shiver at the grating roughness of the tone. “I would carve it on your ass, but I want you to see it. I want you to see it every time you take off your clothes. So you know who you belong to.” Asami hisses between clenched teeth, his eyes alight, almost as if in a fever. He presses the tip of the knife to the side of Akihito’s hip, close to his pelvis; close enough that if he is not careful enough, Akihito will be traumatised ( _worse_ ) for life. Asami pushes the knife harder against Akihito’s skin and the blade breaks the skin smoothly, it is that sharp. And Asami begins carving his possession onto his pale canvas of human flesh.  
  
The only sound that breaks the deep silence between them is that of their harsh breathing. _No sound of the waves crashing the shore._ There is nothing that interrupts the web of intimacy that cocoons them. They’ve come a long way to get this far. And tonight, it’s all about them.

 _A meaning made flesh to symbolise what is so quintessentially them..._  
  
Asami grips his hip tightly with his free hand, leaving Akihito’s hands free. It’s up to Akihito if he wants to stop him. Asami could _maim_ him if he is not careful or if he so chooses. But it’s just as Akihito said before, he _trusts_ Asami. Akihito sobs brokenly, sucking in deep breaths. It hurts, oh god, it hurts. But he won’t stop it; he can’t. His hands grip whatever he can reach, twisting the bedding of clothes between clenched fists. But his body stays immobile beneath Asami’s hands, twitching with only the most minute of shudders.

The light is just enough for Asami to see what he is doing. At the first touch of the knife to his skin, Akihito had only registered the cold bite of the knife, but then the pain hits. Akihito bites back cries and bring his hands up to press against his mouth. However, Asami is not deterred. After he finishes the “ _A_ ”, he moves on to the next letter. Akihito is gasping deep, broken breaths. But he doesn't shy away from the knife. Then, Asami seems to take pity on him. The “ _R_ ” is made in 4 cuts, without Asami attempting to actually carve the curve into his skin. Thin rivulets of thick, viscous blood flow freely from the cuts, running down Akihito’s hip and staining the clothes beneath him.   
  
_It's deep enough to hurt, sharp enough to scar._  
  
And finally, he’s done. From where he is crouched over Akihito's lower body, Asami looks down at the bloody cuts with dark satisfaction – _and_ _something else_ – spreading over his features. He presses his fingers against the cut, perhaps to staunch the blood flow; or for other reasons, Akihito will never know. Because in the next breath, Asami drops the knife beside them and dipping his head, presses his lips to the cut – _his brand_ – hard. Akihito’s body arches up from the floor as he gives a keening wail of pain, of sharp arousal... he doesn’t know anymore. The line between pain and pleasure has been blurred since a long time ago, on the night when this all started.  
  
Asami pulls his bloody lips away from Akihito’s skin, and drags himself up the length of Akihito’s body. Rolling them to their sides, he leans in close to Akihito’s face, making sure to avoid putting pressure on the cut. Maybe it’s to avoid marring the words, maybe it’s to cause Akihito less pain; it doesn’t matter, Akihito is just relieved that he is not in more ( _in_ _unnecessary_ ) pain. He looks at Asami through a vision blurred with tears and his eyes fall to Asami’s crimson-stained lips. Akihito lifts up a weak hand and presses his fingers against Asami’s lips wonderingly. Asami wraps his lips around Akihito’s fingers and sucks on them, staining his fingers bloody as well.  
  
Akihito pulls his fingers away from Asami’s mouth and pulls his head down towards his. He crushes their lips together fiercely and the kiss is fierce, biting. Asami’s arms come up to clasp Akihito’s biceps, fingers pressing in deep enough that Akihito will have yet more bruises to add to his already impressive collection. Their teeth clank together and there is no sign of Asami’s skill in kissing. This is a kiss without finesse. The kiss is flavoured with the taste of blood, and they are made even more frenzied by the metallic taste which speaks of danger, of _madness_. The kiss goes on until they run out of breath, and even then, it continues because their need for each other far exceeds their need for air. Only when Akihito is about to black out from lack of oxygen, does he pull away from Asami slightly. They breathe harshly; great, gasping gulps of air. Throughout all these, their eyes have never left each other’s. Akihito stares in sick fascination at Asami, looking at his teeth which are also stained with blood, knowing that Asami had swallowed a little of his blood.  
  
And the knowledge fills Akihito with a savage satisfaction. His blood, his essence; now flows within Asami as well. While his possession of Asami might not be obvious, the two of them will forever know that Asami belongs to Akihito just as much as Akihito obviously belongs to Asami. He brings his eyes up to Asami’s again and their eyes lock together. There is more than a tinge of madness in their eyes and Akihito grins widely, his teeth glinting in the light, slightly covered with a sheen of watery red. Asami’s lips pull up as well, revealing a smile as crazed and scary as Akihito’s.  
  
A glint on the floor reminds them that the knife is still beside them, and it is a wonder they haven’t impaled themselves yet. Asami pushes the knife violently away and it slides across the floor, out of harm’s way. Asami then focuses his attention back on Akihito and pulls Akihito even more firmly into his embrace, taking care to avoid Akihito’s cut. Akihito presses his forehead against Asami, and they’re sharing each other’s air. They’re entwined so tightly together that not even a sliver of the faint light surrounding them can shine through.  
  
Almost as if they’re reading each other’s minds, their hands come up and grip each other’s erections firmly. Moving their hands quickly up and down their lengths, adding a twist of the wrist here and there to further the sensation, doing just what each knows the other likes. Akihito moans when his wound is jarred. But the pain only adds an extra kick to the pleasure. Already driven to the brink of his control from what just happened, Akihito tumbles over the edge first. With a wail, he comes and spurts between their bodies, the come landing on both him and Asami.  
  
Asami pushes him onto his back, and with the hand already covered in Akihito’s spunk, reaches down between Akihito’s legs. “No,” Akihito breathes out. “It’s my turn...” He wriggles out of Asami’s grasp, and pushes him flat onto his back instead. Akihito straddles Asami’s lower legs. He wants this to be on his terms. He pushes his head down and inhales Asami’s unique scent. Not wanting to tease Asami any further, he opens his mouth around Asami’s cock and sucks it deep. Asami’s hands immediately come up to wrap around his head. But this time, they’re not controlling his movements. Instead, Asami’s fingers slide through the locks of his hair almost dreamily, patting his head as if in praise and encouragement. Akihito vaguely registers that Asami’s hand is now relatively clean. He must have cleaned it on Akihito’s clothes, _the bastard_. But his attention is fully taken up by what he is doing with his mouth.  
  
Akihito employs all the skill he learnt at Asami’s hands, doing what he knows Asami prefers. After a while, he draws back, flicking his tongue across the slit at the tip. His eyes slide up to Asami’s, whose expression when looking down at him contrasts with the soothing movements of his hands. Asami’s eyes are filled with hunger and he looks ready to stop Akihito, wanting to take over. But he doesn’t. Akihito smiles slightly cheekily up at him around his mouthful of cock. To reward him for his restraint, Akihito relaxes his throat, and employing breathing techniques that he’s never been more glad that Asami taught him, slowly pushes himself down. Bracing his hands on Asami’s thighs, using only the compressions of his throat muscles to massage Asami’s cock, he sinks inch by inch down. Normally, having such a constriction down his throat and having his breathing passage restricted would have him choking by now. But this time, he wants to savour it.  
  
Regulating his breath and filling his mouth with saliva which helps to ease the passage, Akihito sinks down to the base of Asami’s cock. Once there, he takes deep breaths through his nose. Saliva is drooling out of his mouth, along with Asami’s pre-come. With these sticky fluids smearing his chin, Akihito knows he looks a sight. But the look in Asami’s eyes is almost half-crazed with lust, so Akihito thinks he can’t look that bad. The touch of Asami’s hands on him has changed from gentle to almost rough, gripping the strands of his hair tightly. Akihito drags his lips up, creating a tight suction around Asami’s length. Using the rasp of his tongue when he has room in his mouth, Akihito creates a contrast between the rough movements of his tongue and the smooth slide of his lips, enough to drive Asami wild.  
  
Asami drags Akihito up his body, causing Akihito to choke when Asami’s cock is pulled so suddenly from his mouth. However, Akihito gives a hoarse laugh when Asami rolls them over and he is flat on his back beneath Asami. His laughter, never before heard between them during sex, causes Asami to pause slightly; the ember in his eyes burning down to a slightly more manageable level. Akihito gives a slight growl, he doesn’t want Asami to have even a shred of his iron control now. One of Asami’s brows rises in sardonic humor, but he acquiesces to Akihito’s unspoken demand. His mouth closes over Akihito’s and they engage in a deep kiss, deep and uncontrolled, though far less frenzied than the one earlier. Asami’s hand is suddenly at Akihito’s ass, and Akihito gives a slight jerk at the slimy sensation. He’s not surprised; it’s just like Asami to keep lube in every part of the house, let alone the couch. He’s just too caught up in the kiss to notice when one of Asami’s hand releases him to search for the lube beneath the cushions.  
  
Asami pulls away from Akihito’s lips reluctantly, a strand of saliva still connecting their lips. But Asami wants to see this. He pulls Akihito towards him, and Akihito slides across the floor on his back. Propping Akihito in the position he wants, Akihito finds his ass is resting on Asami’s lap, his legs hanging over Asami’s shoulders. From Akihito’s vantage point, he can see his cut, now sluggishly oozing blood; and the movement of Asami’s hand as he presses first one finger, then a second swiftly within him. Akihito’s breath hitches. Because the sight of Asami’s fingers disappearing with him is already arousing, and now he gets to see Asami’s mark, rippling along his muscles, on his skin, as his body writhes against Asami’s.  
  
Asami’s eyes catch his, and when Asami’s sensual lips lift up in a slight smirk, he knows that he’s been found out. Akihito catches his lip between his teeth to stifle a yell when Asami’s fingers twist deep within him, hitting _that_. With his other hand, Asami caresses his bare leg hanging over his shoulder. Akihito nearly bites through his lip when without breaking eye contact, Asami turns his head and opening his mouth, catches a bit of Akihito’s skin between his teeth and tugs lightly. The slight burst of stinging pain sings through Akihito’s blood, and along with the rough motions of his fingers _inside_ Akihito, ratchet up the pleasure level considerably.  
  
Asami pulls his fingers out, and holding Akihito’s thighs firmly with his hands, he pushes into Akihito. Akihito is held in place as he is stretched widely around the inexorable slide of Asami into him. But he doesn’t want to move away. Even though it is slightly painful (Asami’s girth always more than what Akihito can be fully prepared to take), more so than usual, because Asami (purposely, Akihito can tell) has not prepared him well enough. But this is what Akihito _needs_. He wants to feel this; when he won’t be able to sit or walk without waddling for the next few days. He wants to remember it, feel it down to the marrow of his bones, even when the ache fades. Because this is a more basic, animal pain. More primal than Asami carving his initials on him.  
  
Akihito’s hands scrabble fruitlessly on the spread of clothes beneath him. He doesn’t pull Asami towards him, somehow thinking that doing so will break Asami’s intense concentration of hitting his pleasure spot _every single time_. He can only lie helplessly on the floor, his entire weight supported fully by Asami with only his back in contact with the floor. In his pleasure-dulled mind, it doesn’t occur to him to reach for his cock. Because the pleasure is just so good that he can come without touching himself.  
  
Asami continues thrusting and after a short while, Akihito comes again for the second time. He’s coming so hard his back lifts up high from the floor and he’s only supported by his forearms braced against the floor. He nearly brains himself when his arms give out and he slumps back down on the floor quickly. He’s come between the two of them again. Dazedly, Akihito brings up one hand and presses his fingers against his come spread over Asami’s ripped chest and stomach.  
  
Asami gives out a low groan then, but it’s more probably due to the uncontrollable convulsing of Akihito’s inner muscles around him. After a few erratic thrusts, Asami comes. Dizzily, Akihito moans softly when he feels the wet squelch of Asami’s hot come inside him. Asami slumps forward over Akihito, releasing his hold on one of Akihito’s thighs as he braces himself with one hand beside Akihito’s head. Akihito’s freed leg slides bonelessly down and his legs are spread even further open. He’s in an uncomfortable position, with one leg still hanging over Asami’s shoulder and pressing uncomfortably into his chest with Asami crushed over him, and the other lying on the floor. But this is only a minor discomfort compared to the rest. At least the leg that is currently digging into his lungs is not the one with the carvings on it, so the cut is not being further aggravated. His back has been almost rubbed raw, despite the flimsy protection of his clothes. But he doesn’t care.  
  
They are both panting. Asami pulls out of Akihito and Akihito lets out a shaky breath. He feels Asami’s come dripping out of him, and the feeling thrills him. Feels him with shamed excitement and causes his cock to stir with a vague residue of lust. But he has just come twice. He can’t go again.  
  
Asami half-rolls, half-collapses to the side of Akihito, onto his back and pulls Akihito towards his side. He lazily mouths at Akihito’s neck, pressing moist open-mouthed kisses and scrapping his teeth teasingly down his neck. Without conscious thought, Akihito arches his neck to provide Asami with more skin to mark. His eyes are drooping shut but he fights to keep them open. Asami feels the fluttering of his lashes against his skin and with one hand, strokes his back in soothingly.  
  
“It’s alright, Akihito. Sleep. You’ve been through a lot today,” Asami speaks softly into Akihito’s ear.  
  
“B-but, you... you on-only c-came... once,” Drowsiness causes Akihito to slur his words. It’s a cute picture.  
  
“It’s alright,” Asami chuckles softly, “I’m not such a monster that I would take advantage now. I need to bandage your cut. Clean you up first.” He presses a light kiss to Akihito’s forehead and Akihito’s eyes flicker open slightly, before drooping. There’s something not quite... right... in this picture but he’s too tired to figure it out.  
  
The various aches in his body are throbbing but Asami’s warmth is comfortable, intoxicating. And his hand rubbing circles on Akihito’s back is strangely hypnotising. Akihito burrows closer into Asami’s body and tucks his head into the crock of Asami’s neck and shoulder. Like an indulged pet kitten, he rubs his face contentedly against Asami’s shoulder and buries his tired head further into Asami’s body.  
  
_This is only the beginning, Akihito... You still have a long way to fall..._  
  
Akihito thinks he is only dreaming these words, but any faint vestiges of alarm he feels are soothed by Asami’s comforting hands. And the last words he hears before he falls into a dreamless sleep fill him with contentment...  
  
_But I’ll be there, waiting for you... Now, no one can take you away from me..._


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a long interlude. It's the first of the story to be written in Asami's POV.
> 
> This is where the warnings regarding the torture of a minor character apply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are many parallels that I have drawn with the previous part, You're My Love Prize and Finder in the Target, in reverse. I hope you all get the the symbolisms that are depicted in this fic=)
> 
> Once again, don't read if the warnings squick you.

Asami stands at the full-length windows of his bedroom. He stares out at the brightly lit streets and at the surrounding buildings. His building is the tallest in the area; and in his penthouse, this is his sanctuary against the rest of the world. He knows that no matter how brightly the street lamps shine, there are areas of darkness where light will never fall upon. Deep in the belly of Tokyo’s underground, that’s where the darkness lies. The vermin and filth that it spews forth littering the gaudily lit streets. But all these are far beneath him.  
  
This symbolism is not lost on him. To get to where he is now, he has paved his passage with fallen bodies, anointed himself with the blood of the fallen. Now, he doesn’t do the dirty work. But...  
  
Asami turns away from the windows and looks toward his bed. Padding on silent feet towards his bed, he sits down on the edge of the bed. With one hand, he cards his fingers through the soft hair of the boy lying in his bed. With the other, he lays it on one smooth, flawless cheek of him who is sleeping the sleep of the innocent. _His_ boy. He murmurs something unintelligible and rubs his cheek against Asami’s warm palm. Asami’s cold eyes warm a little at these unconscious actions. Asami strokes his fingers across his skin, marvelling at the softness of it. Almost like a child’s, if such a thought was not repugnant to him. But his boy’s innocence _is_ precious like that of a child’s; and he never wants it to be lost. It may be tarnished, it may be battered, but it will never be gone completely.  
  
The warm glint in Asami’s eyes dies down. Asami leans over Akihito’s slight body, as if hoping to protect him with his much larger bulk. Asami's fingers still their soothing motions as he becomes lost in his thoughts. To think that his boy had almost been forced to commit murder to protect himself. To feel compelled to take revenge...  
  
This person lying in his bed is his salvation, but at the same time, his damnation. Without him, Asami is just going through the motions like an automaton. With Akihito, he feels (all too) _human_ again. He feels lust, anger, fear, obsession, _love_... However, at the same time, all these emotions can overpower him and drive him to be reckless, do things he normally won’t. Asami has to keep the full extent of what he is _truly_ capable of hidden. Until now, he has always kept himself on a tightly leashed chain. But, when it comes to Akihito, Asami will do _anything_ to and for him, regardless of whether the other is aware of his actions or not...  
  
_There is a man, bound in chains, sitting in the middle of the room. His hands and legs are chained to the arms and legs of the chair; and his upper body is manacled to the backing of the chair. He can only move his head. He lifts his chin and looks at the man standing before him through a blurry vision. Around the room, he is aware of other shadowy figures but he knows that the man in front of him is the one to fear. One of his eyes is swollen shut and the other can only squint. He blinks to clear his vision from the blood dripping down his forehead. His nose has been broken and reset wrongly, like a gross act of mercy. His bleeding face is disfigured by the swelling and by the knife cut running down from his temple to his chin, cutting through his cheek. Sweat rolls down and stings the cut, but he is in too much pain to notice._  
  
_On both hands, the fingers have been broken so badly that the bones have pierced through the skin, and it is obvious he will never be able to regain the use of his hands again. His legs are twisted in unnatural positions, made even more obvious by how the chains are wound around his legs. He is clothed, but his clothes do not hide the abuse he has endured. Blood is smeared across the fabric and his shallow, rattling breaths suggest that at least a lung has been pierced by broken ribs, causing blood to clog his air passage..._  
  
_A few weeks ago, the man had not looked like this. When he had been given to Asami as a gesture of goodwill from Baishe, after he had been found washed ashore in Hong Kong, the only open wounds he had carried were caused by bullets. Now shows an entirely different story._  
  
_But this is not enough. It is obvious that he is not_ broken...  
  
_Standing in front of him, Asami raises a gloved hand and one of his men steps forward. He hands Asami what appears to be a long, thin rod of metal. Swinging the metal rod in his loosely held hands, Asami goes to stand behind the man. Bending over the man’s shoulder, he rests the rod lightly on the man’s shoulder so that he can see exactly what Asami is holding. The man’s head turns away and in the silence, his laboured breathing is loud. As is the clattering of the chains when he strains as far away from the metal, and Asami, as possible._  
  
_Nodding towards his men, Asami steps backwards. He moves to the front of the man and sits down in the chair provided. Sitting with his legs crossed and his chin propped on one hand, he looks the picture of relaxation; in contrast to the man who has begun thrashing in his chains, fighting to get away from the hands holding him down. Asami watches impassively as the man is grabbed and held immobile. His head is wrenched to the side and his neck is exposed. His chest is falling in quick shallow breaths and his Adam’s apple is trembling in his throat, clearly fighting the urge to scream. But Asami only notes all these with a detached silence. He feels nothing for the pain he is about to inflict upon this man. It will serve as a lesson to teach others what happens to those who hurt what is his. It is a lesson in cruelty, one they will do well to learn._  
  
_Asami only watches as one end of the metal is heated up and then pressed deeply on to the vulnerable, soft flesh on the side of the man’s soft throat. At the first touch of the metal, the man has increased his desperate struggles; but his shoulders, neck and head have been held too tightly. His mouth is open and his face has contorted into a grotesque parody of a violent scream, further distorting his disfigured visage. But there is no sound issuing from him._ He can’t. _His vocal chords are paralyzed by the infernal heat of the metal. His upper body jerks violently against the backing of the chair, but he is helpless to protect himself. His maimed hands cannot even clench into fists. His whole body is shuddering violently. The room is filled with the almost nauseating smell of burnt flesh, along with the strong tang of metallic blood. A short while later, these are accompanied by the acrid stench of urine. The man has pissed his pants._  
  
_However, Asami is not affected. Narrowing his flinty eyes, he continues watching as the hot metal remains pressed to the man’s throat. When the metal is taken away, Asami gets up from his seat, moving towards the man again, deftly avoiding the puddle of piss. The man has fallen blissfully unconscious during the last few moments of the branding, but Asami does not want him to miss even a second of this._  
  
_“Wake him up,” Asami commands. One of his men grabs a nearby pail filled with water and flings it at the unconscious man, who is brought roughly back into consciousness. However, his wild eyes are sightless. There is a dazed quality to his expression. The man is delirious, driven to the brink by the unimaginable pain. His head roils on his shoulders, mind too far gone to even know to tilt his head to avoid stimulating the burnt flesh._  
  
_With one hand, Asami grips the man’s hair and pulls his head back. “If there is to be anything around his neck, it will be_ my _collar,” Asami bites out, words filtering out through clenched teeth, softly enough that only the other can hear. This is between the two of them. Asami straightens, but sees no response in the man’s mindless eyes. He pauses for just a breath before he delivers the killing blow. “It was_ Misha w _ho told me that you couldn’t keep your hands off what’s mine.” This time, there is the slightest flicker of awareness in the man’s eyes before even that dies down. It doesn’t matter;  Asami is satisfied, the message has been received. He releases the man’s head and the man’s head lists to the side, his body shuddering._  
  
_Asami looks down at the man’s burnt neck. And he has never felt such a sadistic burst of satisfaction roiling in his veins before. However, he doesn’t allow even a hint of the perverse relish he feels to show on his face. Torture is not foreign to him, but it has never been_  personal.  _He has known ever since he shot a man in cold blood aboard the ship; when it comes to Akihito, he is like a feral beast. And beasts do not have consciences. He will do whatever it takes to keep Akihito safe and loved by his side. Without apology, without remorse, without mercy._  
  
**Сука** _. Asami’s eyes trace over the burn on the man’s neck. His men have done a good job. It suits his purposes: His punishment has far-reaching consequences, which was why Asami chose such a barbaric method. His eyes gleam with malicious satisfaction and his lips are curved into a smirk filled with cruel amusement. “Remember this gift of mine when you’re in prison. I’m sure your friends there will appreciate what I’ve done.”_  
  
_Asami turns to leave. He makes his last parting remark,_ _“And now, you’re my bitch. Suka...”_  
  
Asami drags his mind away from his memories of what happened weeks ago, focusing on who is with him now. Pressing his lips against Akihito’s exposed neck, _at the same place where the man was branded like cattle,_ Asami breathes in the fresh, clean scent of his skin. It is a smell untainted by gunpowder, blood and whatever filth Asami has had to deal with in his unsavoury world. And Asami wants to keep it this way. This is a necessary price they have to pay to get to where they are now. He knows that Akihito still has nightmares at night. But what Akihito doesn’t realise is that the monster could just as well have been wearing Asami’s face.  
  
There are some things he never wants Akihito to find out…  
  
_What they have_ _is personal. It’s_ always _been personal. They’ve come full circle; what started as a game between the both of them, has ended with just the two of them standing. All other players have long exited the board. The two of them are the only ones who mean anything in this twisted world of theirs. The others have been discarded as collateral damage..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure we all know who the man in this fic is now.
> 
> The prompt for this was Suka/ Сука. This is Russian/Cyrillic, literally meaning bitch. There could have been other insults used, e.g. pizda (cunt), manda (cunt), Khuyesos' (cocksucker) etc. But the insult Suka was used because of what it also represents: traitor. In Russia and its prisons with its history that includes the “Bitch Wars” (Сучьи войны), being viewed as a bitch (literally) is the worst thing to be. Hence, it’s not that Asami is a law-abiding man; it’s just that this is the most fitting punishment.
> 
> Misha is the affectionate/less formal term of Mikhail. I hardly think that Mikhail is going to pit himself against both Asami and Feilong so soon after Hong Kong, even if it is to save his uncle.
> 
> I hope I got all these right=)...


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is much, much lighter than Chapters 7 and 8; still, there are dark overtones..

When Akihito wakes up again, the room is dark. It’s not just because the shades have been drawn, but because it’s night out. He lies there, blinking his bleary eyes as he vaguely registers that they are in the bedroom where they, or more likely Asami, moved them from the living room to their current location.  
  
_From where they shared blood, sweat and semen; binding them as close as two human beings can get..._  
  
_Not_ that this is what Akihito is thinking now. In fact, the most convoluted thoughts his mind is currently capable of, revolve around just how damn uncomfortable and in pain he is. Beginning from the most obvious, his hip hurts, his ass hurts, his lower back hurts, the places where Asami bit and grabbed him hurts... In fact, he’s just one big giant mass of hurt right now.  
  
Akihito sits up gingerly in bed, dislodging Asami’s arm which is wound around his chest. Wincing as his hips and ass protest the pressure placed on them, he doesn’t notice Asami’s eyes opening and fix on him.  
  
It’s only when he sits up fully and the sharp, aching pain on his hip makes his breath hiss through his clenched teeth, that he finally remembers what happened the night before. In acute clarity. Details all included. Blindly, he gropes for the blanket covering his hip and drags it away. His breath catches when he sees the white bandage lying stark on his hip that he fully comprehends what happened the previous day.  
  
Akihito stares at the bandage, dully surprised at the _lack of_ shock and anger he ought to feel. At any other time, he would have been jumping out of bed and trying to run away from Asami as fast as possible, while contemplating how to fix the scar; plastic surgery perhaps... But now, all he feels is a resigned satisfaction and contentment. He has stopped fighting the inevitable, but it is on his own terms.  
  
_This is just the beginning, in order for him to become the man fit to stand by Asami’s side..._  
  
When the man beside him sits up as well and pulls Akihito back against his chest with one arm tight around his chest and the other around his waist, Akihito knows it’s because Asami thinks he must be panicking.  
  
Without bothering to look back, still staring down at the bandage, Akihito says in a voice made hoarse from last night’s screams and cries, “You might think that... that after what happened yesterday, you’ve tamed me... But you’re wrong. I’m still my own person. You don’t get to make me into your... your _pet_ or anything like that.” Akihito finishes in an almost-whisper, but this only makes his statement more emphatic.  
  
Asami looks steadily at the back of Akihito’s bent head for a long while. He replies softly, “What makes you think I would ever want to break your spirit?” Continuing on when he sees no visible reaction from Akihito, he leans forward and murmurs into Akihito’s ear, “You’re fine ( _perfect, the word slithers across Asami’s mind_ ) the way you are now.”  
  
Asami doesn’t add; _I never want to see you broken, grovelling on your knees. When I look at you, I see the fire in your eyes. The stubborn set to your jaw. And you will never bend to anyone._

 _You must stand tall, by my side. As a companion, a lover, a consort. As the only one I chose to stand on an equal footing with me._  
  
When he does open his mouth again, breathing out the words again Akihito’s skin, what he says aloud simply is, “I never want to make you anything less than what you already are.”  
  
And if it sounds like a vow, neither of them mentions it...  
  
Akihito shudders slightly, whether at the air being blown across his sensitive ear, or the implicit promise in Asami’s words, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t voice out any response. Instead, one slender hand lifts and presses against the larger hand that rests against his heart. As if to say he trusts Asami to keep his word. Then, wrapping both arms across his body, Akihito tightens Asami’s hold on him, enveloping himself within Asami’s arms. Wordlessly telling him to hold on tight and never let go _..._  
  
Asami bends forward and presses his lips gently against the back of Akihito’s neck. This is his thanks... _And his benediction._  
  
_What Akihito doesn’t know is that there is so much more that Asami never says but is what he truly means..._  
  
Asami doesn’t say; _I want to burrow deep into your skin, and when I breathe in deeply, I want to fill my nostrils with your scent. I want to bite and tear and rend, because I want to get drunk off your taste. I want to take you and break you, and when you cry because it hurts, that’s good; because I want you to know that I’m the only one who can make you feel this way when I lick the tears off your face. And when it’s all over and I put you back together again, I want to fill every pore of you, because I want to get as far under your skin as you are in mine._  
  
_And despite all this, I can promise you that I’ll never take away any part of you that makes you who you are..._  
  
Asami merely tightens his hold on Akihito. And they stay in that position long after words have died out...


End file.
